Diamond Dust (Shadowbound Fae Book 2), page 26
The cold from earlier was back, lodging in her stomach. Shivers ran through her length.
She had weapons and was being escorted by two dead guys. It would be fine. This would be fine. She was not in over her head here. Not yet.
Guard Two veered toward a chest. He opened it and pulled out a black, lacy garment with red ribbons. He flung it at Daisy, who dropped her bundle in “surprise,” “missed” catching the garment, and “accidentally” dropped her towel in the process.
It wasn’t hard to call up tears as she bent to pick up everything, her lip quivering and her hair lank from the bath. She looked pitiful and she knew it. Counted on it, actually. She needed a second to think. To gauge the situation.
She sniffled as she straightened with the garment, limping and shuffling to get her balance. Her feet hit the edge of her bundle as Guard Two said, “Put it on.”
She cried harder as she bent to do as instructed, creating a tent with her towel as she tried to put on the item. Her knife was right there, at her fingertips. She could grab it and launch herself forward, getting one in surprise and the second right after. Then what? If those two were needed elsewhere, their absence would be noticed. Someone would come in looking for them, and before she knew it, she’d either have a pile of bodies or be outnumbered. If the former, it wouldn’t be long before they sent enough people that a sneak attack would no longer work.
Both of those scenarios ended with her getting caught and used. Broken, maybe not of mind but of body, and no use to Tarian. She couldn’t have that.
She stepped into the garment and looked back at the contraption on the wall. The chains looped through metal rings at the top corners and ended in metal manacles with heavily worn leather around the insides. The king liked to play, first with pain, then probably with pleasure. Little hooks stuck into the stone in various places were used to keep the chains at certain lengths, and that length changed based on the captive’s various positions, so she assumed.
Would the king mess with that himself? Would he be the one altering the positioning?
She guessed not. He’d have attendants for that.
When it came time to move the captive to the gold cuffs on the bed, he’d have attendants for that, too.
She pulled the garment up her body, looking again at the guards. Were they the attendants?
She didn’t think so. They’d been far too interested in nakedness thus far. If they were used to seeing all this, they’d be bored with skin at this point. Anyone in a sex club dungeon in San Francisco could tell you that. She’d had enough dealings with information exchange to glean that much.
She looked at the manacles as memories tumbled into her mind. Snippets of conversations she’d overhead. Dots connecting. A picture emerging.
It’s no secret that simpering clown wants to kill the royalty and take their place but can’t because of the magic locking him in his station.
The king has a tighter hold on me, actually. Once outside of court, his leash loosens.
Tarian cannot help you. Not will not…cannot. You are the only one who can save him. Who can save them all.
The answer slammed into her. The reality of her situation. The reason Tarian had kept her in the dark.
You are the key. The only one who can do it.
It was she who needed to kill the king, since Tarian couldn’t. Obviously, the Fallen couldn’t either. It was up to her. She was his freedom. His salvation. She always had been. To rescue him, she had to kill his jailor. That was why he’d allowed her to be in harm’s way. He trusted her, believed in her, to get this done.
She didn’t know if it was because she was the crystal chalice or because she was the only one who would get the opportunity and who would want to, but the way forward was suddenly clear. Horribly, accurately clear.
Her whole body started to shake.
Fuck. This was a risk. A big fucking risk.
But she was making a choice, and that mattered. Come what may, she would get this done. If she had to take a break from reality to distance herself from her body, so be it. Her family was worth it, and she realized with a start…so was Tarian. He was worth all of this. Because she loved him.
She fucking loved him.
She loved his mind and his humor, his brutality and the softness he showed only her and his Fallen. She loved being with him, touching him, and the gentle caresses he trailed across her skin when they were spent and snuggling in bed. He’d weaseled his way into her heart and taken root. She would do this, do anything, to free him. To save him…and save her family and his.
Taking a deep breath, she finished putting on the mostly see-through garment and bent for her clothes. Needing a distraction, she shuffled everything around, stood up, and “accidentally” dropped the stolen knife. Then, in mock terror, she whimpered and backed up quickly, shoving the magical knife into the strap at the back of the garment.
But the garment wasn’t tight enough to hold it.
She juggled it as the guards looked in confusion at their knife. They startled. The owner quickly bent to fetch it, and the other looked at his sheaths to make sure his weren’t missing. She tried to twist her knife in the straps, then tried to find another strap with which to hold it. Her towel, blocking the view of all this, slid from around her bust as she maneuvered.
She gritted her teeth, fumbled the knife, and prepared to attack. Her options were limited.
Instead of falling, though, the knife stopped in its slide. It caught on the middle of her back, within the satin and lace, and magically stuck to her skin. It hadn’t wanted to stay put when only half was tucked into the strap, but now that it was covered, it was happy. That female had given her knife a new trick.
Who the fuck was that female?
By the time the guards looked up, she’d lifted her hands, backed to the wall, and let the towel fall down around her ankles.
“You d-dropped it so I grabbed it, just in c-case,” she stammered.
Guard Two’s face closed down in wary uncertainty. He wasn’t sure when he could’ve dropped it. Guard One, however, looked over with a you’re an idiot expression before advancing on her. He didn’t seem worried about her in the least. Her performances in the court battles must’ve been convincing. The last certainly had been, with how that other slight champion had handled her.
He grabbed her hand while smirking down at the loose garment, too roomy in the bust and not fitting properly around her hips. If she hadn’t been human, the king wouldn’t have bothered with her at all. She didn’t fit the mold he was looking for.
She tried to slither away, pushing at the guard, begging and pleading with him to let her go. The other guard hastened over. He grabbed her free wrist while the other was clasped into the metal manacle. Then the second hand. The leather kept the chill of the metal away. Its well-worn nature brought in the waking nightmares.
They didn’t mess with the chains. They didn’t worry about her reaching forward and grabbing them or her discarded items at her feet, even though one of their knives had come out of it. With her dealt with, they hurried out of the bedchambers like their asses were on fire. They clearly didn’t want to be here any more than she did.
She’d been right, though. They would’ve been missed.
But now she had willingly allowed herself to be caught. She was at the king’s mercy.
32
Daisy
The door opened, and a masked and robed figure walked in with their head bowed. Another entered behind, their faces not visible within their hoods. They peeled off to the sides, making way for the king to follow on their heels. From his neck to his ankles, he wore a strange black bodysuit with a light sheen. A deep red robe was draped over it, dusting the ground as he walked. In one hand he held an obsidian scepter, and balanced on his other palm was the diamond chalice.
He didn’t say a word as he covered the space between them. His magic flowed over her, its vileness seeping into her pores. Her heart quickened as he stopped in front of her. He held out the items he carried, and his minions glided forward to take each.
“Hmm.” The sound sent disgust shivering across Daisy’s skin. His gaze took in every inch of her. “I have always detested humans.” He held out a hand. One of the minions supplied him with a whip. Her breathing grew shallower, but she didn’t show her growing trepidation. “Detested, but desired.”
He slung the instrument. Steel-tipped leather sliced across her skin. She sucked in a breath and trapped it behind her teeth. The garment the guards had supplied tore. The pain flared as blood welled up.
“So beautiful.” He swung it again. “So breakable.”
Fuck this guy was the worst. He was so concerned about breakable. She wanted to turn those words against him.
She fell into the pain as it rippled across her body. Fell into the feeling of him slicing her flesh.
She wasn’t like most humans. Lexi had given her the gift of the gods. Now, she wasn’t any more breakable than fae. Than him. She’d proven it in those games. She would prove it still.
“You do not deserve life, most of you,” he said, and she gritted her teeth against the pain. “You are good for only amusement.”
He hit her harder, high and low, her arms and face. Her legs. Her feet. Blood flowed down her skin, covering every square inch. Pain made her woozy, but she held on to it like a lifeline. If she felt pain, it meant she was alive. It meant she could still fight. And she would. She was a captive at this moment, but they would eventually release her. They would move her. She would be ready for it.
“Your kind needs a ruler.” He was breathing heavily when he finally stopped. “I will be that ruler. But by then…you will be dead. Turn her.”
Fear punched a hole through her middle, but she didn’t react. They might find that knife, but she could still kill with her bare hands. Zorn had made sure of that. When this king didn’t have his magic, they would be equals.
Only worry about that which you can control. For the rest, wait…and be ready to move.
The chains pulled at her wrists, stretching her, and she let them. The excess was hooked on a peg so she’d stay put, and she waited for them to find the knife.
Steel sliced across her back. Liquid dribbled from the cuts. Again. Again. The cool air touched each slash, elevating the sting to something worse. Like salt being poured into the wound. It kept her grounded. Kept her tethered to reality. To this world.
She could hear the king’s excited breathing, heavy even over the sharp sound of the whip. Lacy bits of fabric stuck to her wounds, soon numbed from the harsh treatment. Any moment they would find that knife, still stuck to her skin. Hiding behind material that was slowly but surely being cut away.
The bottom of the garment waved as it fell from her body. The instrument continued to work. The top followed shortly thereafter. No clothing covered her now.
The knife stayed put.
It should’ve been on full display. Yet there was no mention. The lashes kept coming.
She reveled in the pain. Bathed in it. Her mind wanted to sink away to save her consciousness, but she wouldn’t let it. Instead, she clung to the thoughts of those she loved to keep her strong. To the fact she would be a hero, come hell or high water, and Mordecai would be so mad at her for sacrificing herself to achieve it. Pettiness for the win.
When he was done, sagging with the effort, Daisy was covered in blood. It ran freely down her skin in a wash of crimson.
“Yes,” the king said, surveying his work. “Good. Take her to the bed. I’ll have her there.”
Her wailing barely made a sound now, having been forced out of her somewhere along the way. Her fatigue silenced her voice. That was just her body, though. That wasn’t her mind. And when the mind was strong, the body didn’t matter.
It wasn’t as eloquent as Zorn might’ve said it, but whatever. It worked.
The minions released first one manacle, then the other. Her knees gave out, and she collapsed onto the floor in a puddle of her own blood. Her body quivered.
Okay, maybe the body mattered a little bit…
They bent and reached for her, their hands stained with strands of black. The king lay on the bed, nude and prone, waiting for her. It would become his deathbed. Somehow.
She closed her eyes, feeling the magic of the room. Feeling the eddies and flows, twisting and bending from a few areas but tranquil and smooth in another.
The diamond chalice.
It had come alive because of her. It had called to her in the Court Hall. It stood by now, ready.
It had damned well better be. It had ultimately gotten her into this mess.
The hands grabbed her, but she focused on the diamond chalice. Felt it. Reached for it with the magic it had gifted her. Had cursed her with.
Its bright, hot pulse in her middle made her sob. The heat expanded, filling her up…and then overflowed. It pushed out onto her skin and coated her. Blanketed her. But it didn’t heal her. Blood still cascaded down her torn flesh, dripping in places, oozing in others. If she used it to heal that, the king would know she was more than he suspected. More than a mere fragile human.
The pain dulled, though. Numbed. Her energy sparked as the hands picked her up from the floor. The minions tried to steady her on wobbling limbs. She let them, breathing deeply, feeling the life flow down from her middle and into her aching limbs. The pulse grew. Blossomed. With it, so did her strength.
She took a step forward, using the minions to steady herself. Mumbling nonsense. Her head lolled; she was acting now. Her sobs made her hiccup.
“Please,” she whispered, balancing her body. “Please.”
“Yes,” the king cooed. “Beg. That’s right, human, beg for your life. I will grant you your wish…if you pleasure me.”
He was lying. She could hear it in his voice. Taunting her, as the royals liked to do. As Tarian had warned her about. Trained her for, though she didn’t need a lesson to know this king was full of shit. Growing up had taught her not to trust people like him. He wasn’t even a fae anymore. He was something that needed to be exterminated.
“Do you want me to let you go, human?” the king taunted her.
“Not at all…” she said, ripping an arm away from the minion on the right. “I’ll do it myself”—she snatched her knife from its sheath—”you miserable fuck.”
She spun on newly strengthened legs and dragged her blade through the air. It opened a red line across the minion’s chest.
He started as the knife turned into a dagger, her favorite weapon. She withered both of their magics, then turned and stabbed Minion Two through the heart. Back again and she evaded a punch. These things didn’t have any weapons.
Slipping behind him, she grabbed his hood and tugged it lower, over more of his face. Her knife sliced across his throat.
Magic, the king’s, ballooned in the chamber. She latched on and sucked it in as hard as she could. He didn’t get to stay in control. He didn’t get to fight like he normally might. He would learn what it was like to be at a human’s mercy.
The diamond chalice pulsed power into her. More strength. Speed.
Where had this been when she was crossing the fringe?
The king snarled as he bounced up from the bed. His leathery body was like a badly tanned animal hide covering bone and sinew.
“Fucking hell, you’re gross,” she said, pulling more magic, forcing him into a frenzied state. “No wonder the queen doesn’t object to your finding different bed partners. She probably encourages it. She doesn’t want to touch you.”
The king ran at her, jerky and halting, his hands out like claws. Drool dripped from the corner of his mouth.
He was fast, though. Very fucking fast.
She stepped forward to meet him and slipped on the blood around her feet. Thankfully, because of the last few days, she was used to fighting in such conditions. She righted herself as his body barreled toward her.
She stepped at an angle and caught him with one hand. The other peppered him with knife strikes. Stab, stab, slice—she got in as many as she could before he bellowed and turned for her. His arms caught her skin but slid off, the surface slick with blood. He’d been trying to create lube with the blood, but instead had made it harder for him to combat her. Suck on that, donkey fucker.
His nails clawed down her arms, leaving fire in their wake.
She gritted her teeth and didn’t bother acting this time. She would never act for him again. She’d kill him or he’d kill her. There was no other outcome of this fight, not since she’d yanked at his magic.
A loud thump hit the chamber doors. The doorknob jiggled as someone tried to get in. Another thump, someone ramming it with their body. She had to get this done before they got in to help the king.
“You…will…fuck-ing…die,” she grunted as she yanked back his hair and stabbed at his throat.
He spun at the last moment, so fucking fast. Thank the miserable gods he was out of his mind with frenzied panic. He wasn’t relying on skill or training, just animalistic brute strength and manic clawing.
She yanked more on his magic, as hard as she could. She stabbed at his side. His nails raked down the side of her face, and she took the pain as she lined up another strike. A normal person would’ve gone down, even a fae. This creature wouldn’t succumb to the destruction.
She grappled one-handed to ensure the other held on to the knife. He grabbed her throat. Another slam hit the doors. Wood cracked. They were forcing their way in.
His hands squeezed with incredible strength, cutting off her air supply. She didn’t stop. Couldn’t. She pummeled him, holding his shoulder for leverage. Black spots danced in her vision. Still she stabbed, ruining his chest. She hit his heart and still the fucking creature would not go down.
Why isn’t he dying?
Her lungs burned. Blackness crept closer. Blood drenched them both.
She went after his neck with more force, trying to sever his head. Her knife turned into a saw.
